


parallel in this universe

by aswium (liberate)



Category: League of Legends RPF
Genre: Existential Crisis, M/M, One-Sided Attraction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-26
Updated: 2016-07-26
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:16:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7592350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberate/pseuds/aswium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It takes Seo-haeng a lot of defeats to admit that he is in love with Sang-hyeok.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	parallel in this universe

**Author's Note:**

> i can't believe this is the first thing i'll upload here, and it's neither mata/dandy nor rekkles/klaj or anything, but about those two people i hardly ever thought about until this morning.
> 
> also: starring a bad writing block, and inspired by an article i can't find anymore, and the horrible record rox has against skt (and come on, as if no one ever thought about this pairing g u y s)

_do we light up our hearts just to watch 'em burn?_

 

 

“He makes you look like you never even played the game before.”

 

The look Kyung-ho shoots him is questioning at best, and there isn't a hint of pity in there. It makes the guilt ignite his stomach, crawling up into his throat until he is afraid that he will spit out flames of blue gasoline if he opens his mouth to say another word. There are no words left anyways, and he knows it. They all know it, because who can offer them a reason for his poor play – poor is an understatement, and he knows it too well – except Seo-haeng himself, and who can offer them a reason when the person in question has neither excuses nor reasons for his actions?

 

“What is it about him? His reputation? Still not over Worlds? Are you _jealous_ of him?”

 

It's all of these things, and yet none. It's something that makes Seo-haeng feel ridiculous and very, very small – not like the midlaner who took on Faker, not like the midlaner of the team that ~~got beaten~~ by SKT. The favorites in the spring playoffs, maybe the second best team in the world. Is it jealousy, he wonders, sometimes, while he stares at the loading screen, while he's waiting in queue for a game to pop up. Then he thinks of the crowds, the people cheering Sang-hyeok's name, the _unkillable demon-king_. He thinks of season three, of the disappointment, the crushed hopes and dreams. He thinks about the way everything tends to collapse around Sang-hyeok, and he is the center of it all, whether he wants it or not. He thinks about the way Sang-hyeok looked back then, when their ways crossed each others backstage, like the weight of the world got lifted of his shoulders.

 

Seo-haeng figures he doesn't want to be jealous of someone who needs to win Worlds to fulfil the expectations of everyone around him. And sometimes, he catches himself wondering how people like Faker sleep at night. Except that there are no “people like Faker”. There's only Sang-hyeok. And that's enough to set Seo-haeng's whole world ablaze.

 

 

Their record against SKT is miserable at best, and an absolute disaster if you don't sugarcoat it. And as Coach No-chul tells them all the time – “sugarcoating isn't getting you anywhere. Approach a problem at it's root and rip that out.” Until now, Seo-haeng thought he understood that concept, because it always made perfect sense to him – until now. Now his hands shake when he puts them on the keyboard, almost as familiar as his own body, when they go up against SKT. Now his KDA is horrible after every game he plays against Sang-hyeok. Now he has a hard time falling asleep after every defeat – and it's not because of the actual defeats.

 

“You are a good player”, No-chul sits down with him after another lost game, “a very good, even. That's why you are on this team. We value your talent. You know that, right?” _What talent_ , Seo-haeng wants to ask, because lately he hardly sees anything in himself anymore except crushing guilt and fingertips that don't hit the right buttons at the right time anymore. Instead he swallows.

“Thank you, Coach. I know that, and it means a lot to me.” It's not a lie, because sometimes he wonders how they cannot hate him for his disappointing performances against SKT as much as he hates himself for it.

 

No-chul reaches out for something that feels like it's meant to be a pat on the shoulder, but hesitates. Seo-haeng doesn't know if it's because the look on his face or because of something else, and he doesn't bother asking. “Every good player has a mental block at some point, believe me. It's just...” - “Uncommon?”, Seo-haeng adds, and No-chul shrugs.

“Uncommon, yes, that it's so focused on a single team, and especially a single player. Still”, he smiles, “it's nothing that can't be fixed. Keep that in mind, we're all here to support you. The whole team has some kind of mental block against SKT, and that makes a lot of sense, if you look at it. But we will win against them, I'm absolutely confident about it.”

Seo-haeng's mumbled “Thank you” sounds fake and tastes bitter on his own tongue.

 

Later at night, he stares at the blank, dark ceiling and the words ring in his ears over and over again – _it's nothing that can't be fixed, nothing that can't be fixed, nothing that –_ he pulls the blanket over his head, even if it's already far to hot inside the room, and wonders what the burning feeling inside his stomach is, if not jealousy and not hate.

 

 

It takes Seo-haeng another defeat to admit that he is in love with Sang-hyeok.

 

But maybe love is the wrong word, after all – because love is supposed to be a good thing, he thinks to himself. Love isn't supposed to make you shake and disappoint other people, the people you care about. Love is supposed to be about you and someone you know and like, and he hardly knows Sang-hyeok at all. He knows the interviews, he has crossed the same stage as him, but they never really talked, because why would they? Sang-hyeok isn't a man of words, and his actions speak a lot louder than any words Seo-haeng could ever offer to him. He can't offer him actions either.

 

It feels like love, and yet like the complete opposite – it feels like a twisted, torn version of love, a craving deep within Seo-haeng's bones, and yet it's not about physical attraction. He doesn't dream about kissing Sang-hyeok either, not about cupping his face in his hands, whispering sweet nothing into his ears. He doesn't dream about him at all, but sometimes he stares at his hands on the keyboard and wonders what they would look like interlocked with Sang-hyeok's. And these aren't thoughts you are supposed to have about your rival, about the guy who ruins your reputation.

 

Seo-haeng is supposed to hate him. He fails at it just as miserably as he does in laning against Sang-hyeok.

 

 

They meet backstage, and Seo-haeng can still feel the roar of the crowd within his very bones, the applause that rattles his bones and tears him apart, leaves him raw and fragile. He feels shattered and weak, and Sang-hyeok is the last person he wants to meet, and yet he wants nothing more than that. To some point, it doesn't even deserve the word ' _meeting_ '. But somehow, none of this does, their whole interactions, their whole story – except that they don't have a story they share. Sometimes, Seo-haeng wonders if Sang-hyeok even knows his name, even knows he's the midlaner of the team that competed with SKT for the World Championship.

 

It doesn't really matter, after all. They have nothing more in common than their role, and one of them is a legend while the other looks like a kid, stumbling across the rift when they meet in other in combat. Seo-haeng figures he wouldn't shot himself a second glance if he was in Sang-hyeok's shoes, and it makes him want to scream _It's you, it's only you, I am good at this damn game._ But it sounds like a weak excuse and feels like a knife being twisted within his stomach.

 

It's not the lost final that makes him feel sick. It's the missed possibilities, the opportunities, the universes they never had the chance to explore. Maybe in another universe, they would've won the finals. Maybe in another universe, Sang-hyeok would've been the one looking like a child playing against him. Maybe in another universe, Sang-hyeok would've looked at him.

 

In this universe, they are merely two straight lines in a room without gravity, making their way towards an unknown goal, always next to each other and yet never connected. And when Sang-hyeok passes the room next to him, Seo-haeng wonders what would happen if he would reach out now, across the starless floor and the yelling of the crowd.

 

Instead, he watches the door close behind Sang-hyeok, and his hands shake for hours afterwards.

 

 


End file.
